Spongebob Inspiration

At some point after reaching my half way mark I let my mind wander to what exactly that meant. Yes, its true, I've made it half way and that's wonderful, but it also means I still have half way left to go. That is six more rounds of chemo treatments, that frankly I'd prefer not to do, three more months of feeling somewhat off and less then myself, at least half a year with a buzz cut hair-do and hats to accessorize, and who knows how many more doctor or hospital visits. Thinking of all this, although it have never really bothered me that much before, what was left to do just seemed like way too much to bear. Life can be so very unfair. This is not at all what I wanted for myself. Why shouldn't I be blessed with the same normal fairly easy going life that most 20 year olds get to live? What did I do to deserve these challenges? The feeling was horrible and discouraging. I've been working so hard on trying to remain upbeat and positive, telling myself that things aren't so bad, they could be much worse, that I really have been blessed in countless ways, that it is, in the grand scheme of things, a small amount of time, that I could make it through, and that this would only make me stronger. I still believed all of that with all of my heart, but for some reason it was no longer enough. Believing those things didn't make it easier. I needed new inspiration. Praying for continued strength I was able to recall a great lesson learned in high school. Back then, I felt as though anything that was even slightly difficult was a big drama and impossibly hard to handle. The world was out to get me and I just had to deal. I constantly found myself being somewhat of a downer. On a day when I was feeling particularly depressed, while I was shuffling through the hallways between classes, I took notice of the backpack strapped to the girl in front of me. Pictured on it was a rather beat up Spongebob Squarepants. He was bruised from head to toe, barley standing, and seeing stars, yet he was still able to muster up a small but significant smile with the words overhead reading "the face of victory." The message was intended to be humorous, but it was so much more then that to me. It held profound truth.
A victory worth achieving is never going to be easy. It requires a lot of bumps and bruises and falling down and getting back up again. Ironically, that is where the joy is found. Without the struggle the victory would be empty. Sports are the perfect example of this. An athletes goal is to overcome whatever obstacles or challenges their opponent or task throws out at them. They are tested both mentally and physically and the harder they work and the more intense it is the sweeter the win. No one walks away from a complete shut-out, spectators included, saying "that was a great game." Instead, we live for the times when it comes down to the last few seconds on the clock or the last few feet before the finish line when all of the odds are against you or whoever you're routing for. Pulling out those victories mean so much more.
What I am getting at is, that struggles, as strange as it may seem, are blessings. They empower us and keep pushing us forward, so in the end when we have reached our goal there is value added to the experience because we have had to overcome and persevere. We have conquered. They make the journey worthwhile because the sense of accomplishment and victory they give you when its all over. If I could remember that and hold on to it, facing this next half of chemo treatments will be a whole lot easier and I will get to keep my positive attitude (I am sure it has been helping me quite a bit).
Anyway, I don't know if my twisted logic will even make sense to anyone else, but I thought I would put it out there just in case it might be able to help someone else in fighting thier own battle, whatever it might be.